


( please, not him ) ;

by theangelscribe_ (HurricaneHannah)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Drabble, F/M, Female Reader, Heavy Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Reader-Insert, Reader-centric, Violence, human reader, injured reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneHannah/pseuds/theangelscribe_
Summary: “… the illusion of a cold, piercing sensation resting against the heated skin of your chest. The result of the tip of an angel blade poised over your heart.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> **↪** the inspiration that preceded the creation of this writing was a dream I had regarding the events between the angel in question and myself in the role of the reader.

_I am going to die_ , you think as your vision fades in and out with tears. _Please, don’t allow this to happen, not to him. Fuck, Chuck, please – if you **ever** loved him, stop this; stop this before…_

There is a harsh shake of your body, dislodging the collecting tears and your desperate prayers – also awakening your numb body; a flare of painful awareness assaulting your nervous system.

A crushing pain bruising your hips bones; a raw, stinging spreading over the skin of your back; a bass-deep throbbing radiating through your skull.

They couldn’t compare, however, to the illusion of a cold, piercing sensation resting against the heated skin of your chest.

The result of the tip of an angel blade poised over your heart.

 _I am sorry – I am so sorry_ , you sobbed silently in your mind as you curl one set of shivering fingers around the arm clutching the silver blade; the other set resting on the coat-sleeve of the arm pinning you to the abrasive floor.

He must think you are trying to struggle; his grip on your hips and right shoulder tightening, the previous illusion of a piercing cold pain becoming reality as the angel blade draws blood - adding to the amount that he has already spilt.

You gasp, though your [eye colour] eyes never leave his. Eyes that had not changed colour like you expected; eyes that were still beautiful and breathtaking.

Eyes belonging to the angel you had fallen in love with, now glaring at you like you were a demon he was going to smite.

 _Please, don’t let this happen – I’ll do **anything**._ You weren’t desperately begging for yourself, you had known the minute the red-tinged curse had seeped its way into your angel’s chest that you were about to meet your reaper.

No, you were begging for him – the angel who had enough pain to last eternity; the angel who would never forgiven himself for being the instrument of your death; the angel who used to tilt his head and squint his eyes when you brushed your fingers against his arm, like you were doing now; the angel who always appeared to have too much heart…

The angel who had blue eyes.

“Castiel,” you choked, “I – “

Your vision explodes white.

**Author's Note:**

> [ **tumblr.** ](https://the-butterflydiaries.tumblr.com/)


End file.
